Tillie
“WHY DO YOU HAVEso many fucking clothes?” Tripp gripes as he hefts a stack of storage containers through the bedroom door like he’s the freaking Hulk or something.
Sprawled idly on the floor, I examine my nails. “Blame the ease of online shopping, same-day shipping, and boredom.”
He grunts in response and heads back out.
After three weeks of having the interior of my house overhauled from rustic masculine to sleek contemporary, today is move-in day, and I’ve enlisted Tripp to help me.
By “help” I mean he’s doing all the work because it took me hauling two heavy storage containers up the stairs to realize I’m not about this life and did what any smart person would do. Feign twisting my ankle then plop down with an ice pack to let it rest because “it hurts so much.”
Fifteen minutes later, he’s unstacking the containers to make the unpacking process easier for me later on. So thoughtful. I love him to bits.
“You brought in everything already?” I ask from the floor.
“Yeah.” He wipes sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “The others are in respective rooms according to how you labeled them. Should be easy for you to just unpack.”
“Great!” I bound up from the floor. “Thanks, bro bro.”
“Ankle’s all good now, huh?” he says in a tone that tells me he knew I was full of shit all along.
Batting my eyelashes, I give him a saccharine smile. “What’s the point of those big, strong muscles if not to do all the heavy lifting for your one and only little sister?”
He picks up one of my plushies and pelts it at me. “I’m gone.”
Sunny’s ringtone blasts through my phone just then.
“Okie. Thanks again,” I say before swiping the screen to take Sunny’s call. “Snukums! My sugar dumpling. My boonununus.”
“Happy move-in day! How’s it going so far?”
“Ugh, so much heavy lifting up and down these stairs. I’m so tired. Wish you were here to rub my feet.”
Peripheral movement pulls my attention to the left. Tripp’s still here, arching a judgmental brow at me.
“Didn’t you say you were leaving?” I shoo him with a flick of my wrist and bring my focus back to Sunny. “Anyway, how was your date last night?”
As Sunny regales me about her date night, I kneel down and prop up the phone, then pop the lid of the nearest container and begin unpacking.
A muffled thud has me looking over my shoulder to find Tripp still lingering for whatever reason.
“What was that?” I ask him.
“Dunno.” He crouches down and pops the lid on one of the containers. “I’ll help you unpack.”
“That’s my underwear.”
A boisterous laugh bursts out of me when he drops the lid as if it burned him. “Stop being weird and get lost, dude. Didn’t you say Reuben’s waiting for you down at the airfield?”
“You’re an ungrateful brat, you know that?” he mutters as he stalks out of the room.
“Wait, were you waiting for a tip or something?” I call after him. “I have two dollars…”
“Fuck off!” His voice echoes in the hall.
“Was that Tripp?” Sunny asks.
“Yeah. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was lingering because you’re on the phone,” I tell her. “It’s weird, but if he’s around when you call, he always seems to get real close, like he’s trying to steal in on our convo or something.”
